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aprosperousmonster · 21 hours ago

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PREVIEW: Of Course He'd Nut And Bolt

CW: the following excerpt contains FEMALE WEIGHT GAIN, BELLY BUTTON SEX, FEEDING, STUFFED SEX, and ROBOT FUCKING. You've been warned.

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The letter came to Connie’s quarters that her attendance was requested by a client in the private dining rooms about thirty minutes prior to the start of lunch. Strange, she thought, as she redid the buttons of her too-tight vest and headed down to see who her mystery guest would be. Though her tables wanted for nothing while Bernard fell over his feet to attend her section as well as his own so the labored pace that came with her added weight wouldn’t draw notice, neither one of them had stood out as extraordinary–certainly not special enough to warrant a call table. Yet, when she arrived at the kitchen where the food was sent out for the resort’s top-paying clients, there he was, on the line, waiting for the sous chef to assemble the first massive course of a meal destined for some rich lunatic’s feedee. “Ah, Connie! Glad to see you made it on time,” he chirped, nodding toward her own tray: “That’s yours, for the gentleman seated in Booth 7. Although…”

“What?” she asked, taking stock of the spread before her: poached lobster alongside a petit filet, plated with creamed spinach and chunky mashed potatoes with the skins still in, with some sort of creamy bisque or chowder on the side that she couldn’t quite identify, but its aroma of fiery spice opened up a whole world of temptation, even as her stomach churned unhappily around her mid-meal ‘snack’ of baguettes drowned in butter and bacon fat left over from the saute station after breakfast. Then, for dessert, there was a perfect creme brulee in a ceramic dish–whoever her high-roller was, he sure knew how to treat his lady.

“I’m just perplexed about what he’d want with you. He’s dining alone, and he usually prefers the attendance of…well, of heavyset women,” explained Bernard.

“Well, so do you,” said Connie, with a sly smirk. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve taken a shine to me, Bernard DuBois.”

“What can I say? You do have a certain je ne sais quoi to you.”

“And what’s that mean, exactly?”

“‘I don’t know what.’”

She scoffed. “I thought you said you were French.”

“Don’t forget your blowtorch.” He plucked it off the shelf above the heat lamp and placed it on her tray, chancing a playful nudge with his elbow into the swell of a budding love-handle that rucked up the hem of her vest to expose more than a sliver of her white linen shirt.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hoisting her tray over one shoulder, she made a point of bumping him with one of her plusher hips as she reached for a jack and turned to make her way for Lucky Number Seven.

The U-shaped booths were situated in warm, intimate private chambers, each with their own curtain and candelabra and chandelier. Despite the partitions, the setup handed itself to a certain degree of voyeurism: already, she could hear the moans and groans of other patrons getting stuffed by their lovers in other booths. But none of that surprised her. What did, however, was the momentary flash of electric glowing yellow in the calculating eyes of her old pal, Leo Caprisky, who’d been sitting there waiting for her.

“L-Leo?” she stammered. “Why’d you order all this food? You’re a robot, you don’t eat!”

“Ah, but you do…and more than you ever have before, as of late, as I can see. I must say, from your search history, I never would have pinned you for a mutual gainer…then again, knowing you, I also know you’ll do anything for a chunk of change. You’re undercover, I’m guessing? There’s a heist afoot?”

She set down her tray, starting to understand now what was going on.

“I had been wondering, when I encountered your name in the Abundance Catering database, when we would next meet…and then I remembered I’ve paid for a package that allows me to order anything I want, including a staff member, by name!”

“It’s weird, seeing you in a three-piece suit,” she remarked, looking him up and down in his gray, tailored finery, with his slicked-back, honey-brown hair and conspiratory half-smile. All the other times she’d encountered him, he’d either been dressed in mismatched loungewear and backwards ball caps, or else in his final form, thrusters ignited and mechanical tentacles bared. “It’s nice, though, you look good.”

“I could say the same of your own recent stunning transformation,” he said. “I trust you’ve figured out why I asked for you to come here?”

“You want to see me eat,” said Connie.

“And feed you, if you’ll consent,” he added. “It’s fine, if you wouldn’t like to play ball, but in that case, I’ll just keep this.” He slammed a hefty stack of bills onto the surface of the table. “If you do intend to take my offer, do know that I’m willing to let you stall as long as you need to. My sensors indicate you’ve had a big breakfast.”

“I’m not–” Well, she was stalling, but not for the reason he thought. “It’s just kind of a shock to me. I never knew you liked–”

“Ah, we’re not all as brazen as you are about our preferences. Remember, I have a reputation to uphold, as CEO of Mybrid. But Crime Brulee is a dastardly villain, and Connie Conway owns a run-down gambling hall. Of course, you run with the disreputable, the downtrodden, the crooks and the sinners and the gluttons. You’re bad. It’s what you do.”

“What a nice compliment, and I do mean it.” There was a bottle of champagne sitting open by the table in a bucket of ice, along with one glass. She filled it up and took a swig.

“Yes, drink, please! I hope to make you comfortable,” he told her.

“So what do you get out of, ya know, all this?” she asked. “I mean, you’re–”

“A robot, yes,” he agreed. “But I was once human.”

“Oh?”

“Sit down.”

She made to slide into the booth, but he rose to his feet and patted the surface of the table. “No, sit here.”

“O–oof! Okay.” She panted a bit as she leveraged herself up with her hands braced against the mahogany; this had been easier to do when she was lighter, and when her boobs, butt, and belly didn’t bounce so much even after she was in place. Leo handed her the soup course, and as she raised the spoon to her lips, he began to spin his tale of woe.

“Growing up, I was always the weakling. The runt of the litter, Adopted, in fact.”

She placed her elbows on her thighs and just listened. “Yeah?”

He picked up the soup bowl and started to pour it into her mouth….almost lovingly? It was really good! It was, like, roasted red pepper bisque or spicy tomato or something, and though it tested the limits of her full stomach, it landed warm, comforting, almost.

“Would you mind,” asked Leo, thumbing her buttons, “removing this pesky little vest?”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” She threw it off and tossed it into the bench. “Much better, actually!” she admitted as her paunch spilled forward, over her waistband, straining the buttons of her linen shirt.

“And much better for me to feel you fill up,” he said, palming her stomach through her thin shirt. “Unless you object.”

The sensation was strange at first. His hand was cold, his touch unfamiliar. But there was a stack of cash waiting for her at the end of this. “Be my guest.” She finished her champagne, refilled the glass, and untucked her shirt to press his hand to her skin as she downed the next one. Finishing, she looked up with a smirk. “Hope you don’t mind if I fill up this little tummy with a bit of booze along with this nice meal. But then…you bought it for me. Obviously, you wanted me to have fun.” He held the bowl to her lips and she slurped it down. It really was tasty, and as it landed in her stomach to stretch her out, somehow it relieved the lingering ache from all that bread that morning. Maybe it was the warmth, maybe it was the hydration. She was a burglar, not a goddamn nutritional scientist. “Tell me more about your parents.”

“Oh, they were fine. Picked me up from the boys’ home, ‘Oh, a boy genius? We could use one of those around.’ Bought me everything my deprived little heart could think to demand. But it didn’t help me when the bullying came, and they were always too busy. So, you can guess.” He poured her another glass of champagne, if only to feel up her tightening stomach as every drop went down. “Namecalling, swirlies…wedgies. At last, I decided to rebuild myself…but at such a cost. You humans? You change, you expand, and I no longer do.”

Then came the main course, which he fed to her by the forkful, but so slowly, so nicely, and he would alternate bites of lobster and spinach with bites of meat and potatoes…and there was still that big stack of cash on the table.

Leo pulled her bottom four shirt buttons open so he could more closely examine the bloat of her belly. She pressed it against him.

“Leo, look!” Raising a hand, she gave it a smack, flaunting the bounce of the firm sphere right in his face. “Look what you’ve done to me!”

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” Both thumbs in her collar now, he leaned in and whispered, “For a little extra, could I persuade you into removing your top?”

“Yeah, fine.” She’d done more for less in the backalleys of Blackwater.

He unbuttoned her and gazed upon her with utter reverence. “What a pretty prize.” He plunked the creme brulee into her hand. “Would you do the honors?”

“I mean, sure. I’m pretty fuckin–” She slapped her belly to release a small belch. “I’m pretty fukin’ stuffed, but I am tryna put on some more weight anyway, and I do want it.” She lit a small flame under her other palm to bruise the top, give it that nice burnt thingy.

“If I may…” He spread her legs and moved in closer. “Please understand, I know you

have a husband.”

“I mean, it’s fine. You’re a robot, right?”

He wanted to fuck her, and big deal, right? To her, it was no different than consulting a vibrator, even if she did now know of his tragic past.

He slid a spoonfull of creamy creme brulee past her lips. Then, he undid his slacks.

“Thank you, Connie, for giving me the gift of seeing you quite this full. However, I think you could be fuller…” He spooned another big bite of the delicious treat into her mouth, and motherfucker it was all hitting her now: it hurt to swallow, her stomach was so full. But then he took his cool, robotic hand and rubbed it, and holy shit, that felt better.

“That’s it. Eat as much as you can.” he said, still stroking her stomach. “If you can’t, it’s okay. You’ve already filled up so nicely!”

“Nah, stuff me with the whole thing,” she said, half in a daze. He shoved the last spoonful past her lips and grabbed her back, pinched her stomach, drew her close.

“Is this the part where you fuck me?”

“Calm down, Connie. I don’t want that much of you.”

She stared down at his pulsating, robotic cock.

“Then why’d you take your dick out?”

“Shh. Connie.” Still holding her by the back, he said, “If at any point you object, please let me know. But I hope you’ll like what I do to you.”

He took her hand and put it on it. His cock, or whatever he’d replaced his cock with. It was encased in silicone and twitching from motions of metal and pulls of electrical wires and everything, but it worked like a real cock and again, it wasn’t cheating on her husband if he was a robot, right?

After he set aside the last empty dish, he grabbed her hips, brought her all the way in. “There’s something I want to try. Tell me if it hurts.” Then, he took that cool mechanical cock and shoved it right in her belly button.

At first, she was taken aback, but her wide-eyed look of surprise soon softened as he found his rhythm. It was almost like her full belly was getting a nice massage with one of those fancy massage wands, only this one had his own company. As he pressed deeper, she let out a soft whine.

“Good noise, or bad noise?” he asked her, his cool fingers holding her up by the middle of the back.

“Good!”

“Wonderful!”

“How does this feel so good?”

“All of this right here,” he explained, spanning her lower belly with the fingers of one hand outstretched, “is an erogenous zone.”

“Wha…whazzat…?” Her words got a little lost. Why was she throbbing between the thighs, and getting so wet? She’d never liked guys with trim little waists, and yet, her chunky thighs squeezed around Leo’s just to make sure he wouldn’t go anywhere.

“In layman’s speak, it means this fat little gut of yours is full of nerves with a direct line to the nerves in your eager little cunt, and the fatter it gets, the better you’ll feel when it’s fucked, especially with the added internal stimulation of all that food stuffed into that gut, pressing on all those nerves even harder…”

“So I’ve been rewired,” she concluded. “Like a machine.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Heh,” she mumbled lazily as he went on thrusting into her pudge. “I kinda like it when you talk nerdy to me.”

“Would you be so object to talk dirty to me a bit, Connie? Unless you’re too lost in the sensations.”

Taking both hands off the edge of the table, she grabbed a fistful of her hair and put one of his hands on the roll that had just begun to crease at her side even when she stood up as straight as she could. “Oh, cuh-mon. Grab this right here, Leo. You know you want to get a handful of all this blubber I’ve packed onto my poor little body!” He did, his fingers gripping down on her little handful of flab.

“Forgive my French, but–”

“Why don’t you give it a little shake? Yeah,” she went on, guiding him. “You wouldn’t believe how much trash I’ve had to force down my throat to get this big and fat. Whole things of cream, whole sticks of butter…there are days I almost made myself sick shoving calories into this gut. And these titties!” She took his hand and dropped one heavy breast into his palm. “They’re getting so out of control. Halfway down a hallway and I’m gasping, they’re so heavy on top of my poor little lungs!”

Leo’s hand froze and, she heard this sputter of fans.

“Leo?” she asked. He was still moving, but she wondered if he might be on autopilot. “Leo? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You know what? Splendid!” It seemed she’d been correct in intuiting he had a sadistic side. Shaking off the whatever, he held her tighter and went right into what she might have called her slutty little belly hole out loud, if he hadn’t short-circuited just seconds ago. “Yeah, just keep it…yeah? Yeah? FUCK!”

He staggered away as an awful black spew sprayed across her quivering, exposed midriff.

“Leo? What the fuck, is this motor oil?” she asked, wiping it off with one hand to examine the smell.

“Connie, dearest, I hate to feed and flee, but I do have an important business meeting to get to with my sister. Here’s your cash!” He tossed it to her. Between oily fingers, she counted out 300,000 Japanese Yen.

“Leo! Wait! How many American dollars is this?” she called, but he was already gone.

Of course, he’d nut and bolt.

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